


Family Chat

by livrelibre



Category: White Collar
Genre: Character of Color, Chromatic Character, Community: Month of June, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livrelibre/pseuds/livrelibre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'd completely forgotten my posting date for month-of-june and whipped this out last night so concrit's welcome. To my surprise it wasn't the June/Neal I thought I'd write for this challenge or the June and Cindy conversation about art, life, the past and how you can do bad by yourself that would have taken too long to write, but June talking to her granddaughter about Neal and Byron. Bechdel test fail! /0\</p>
    </blockquote>





	Family Chat

**Author's Note:**

> I'd completely forgotten my posting date for month-of-june and whipped this out last night so concrit's welcome. To my surprise it wasn't the June/Neal I thought I'd write for this challenge or the June and Cindy conversation about art, life, the past and how you can do bad by yourself that would have taken too long to write, but June talking to her granddaughter about Neal and Byron. Bechdel test fail! /0\

Cindy, sitting on the chaise beside June in the living room, cast an appreciative eye over Neal, who was sunning himself like a lithe, ostentatious and rather smug cat on the terrace. He did make a nice sight, June allowed.

“So Gram, anything I should know?”

“Child, hush! He’s old enough to be my grandson!” Cindy cocked an eyebrow.

“He is pretty. As you get older, you learn to appreciate the finer things in life and that art and companionship can be found in the unlikeliest of places.” Cindy chuckled in agreement. Neal turned his face from the sun a bit in their direction, accidentally or perhaps not, highlighting his classic features. “But he's high maintenance and I haven’t got time for all that. He is fun to have around though.” Plus, privately June thought there was someone else. Maybe the FBI agent (though that would be jumping from the frying pan into the fire, as unlikely as that would be to stop Neal) or that Kate woman who’d been seeing him at the jail.

June, though generous, was not stupid and had a background check started through discreet and well-connected old acquaintances of Byron’s as soon as Neal had closed the door to try on the Devore. Between herself, her staff, and those old acquaintances she was fairly sure she could handle whatever it found and was pleasantly surprised by what it returned. Neal’s rep was good, for given values of good in her world. Of course, if the family had known the whole story, they would be having even more fits than they already were and wouldn’t have stopped at sending Cindy, the favorite grandchild, out on a scouting mission. They all should have known by now that neither Cindy, mini-June or not, nor interminable rounds of phone calls and barbed comments would stop June from doing what she damn well pleased anyway. June sighed mentally. How she and Byron had managed to turn out someone as hidebound as Frances was a mystery for the ages. But blood ran true in Cindy, who shifted her lingering gaze from Neal’s chest back to the room and the black and white photo of Byron from the ‘60s perched on the mantle.

“Gram, how _did_ you meet Graddad?”

“I was singing in this little jazz club down near 125th and beating off the usual no-talents when in walks Byron. It was like the spotlight just picked him out. You know how your grandfather could dress.” Cindy nodded.

“But it was more than that. There were all kinds of sharp-dressed and rich men in and out all the time, thinking a few drinks and some patter would snow you, talking like they’d give you the world instead of leaving you broke or pregnant or both within a year. But Byron, now, he had something. He was like dance music. He filled up a room, made it sparkle, and promised you everything and, God help you, you couldn’t help but believe him. And he did it. We had some tight spots and Lord knows he wasn’t a perfect man but he was true. He’d break your heart but he’d give it back to you better.”

June fell silent. That wasn’t the half of it, but if Cindy was going to know, she’d have to wait to read June’s diaries when she died. Frances would never let her hear the end of it if June told Cindy the whole story about some of Byron’s shadier dealings. June wasn’t too old to remember getting ready to fight or run when things had gone south or the cold water flats until business dealings had gone Byron’s way. But she wouldn’t have traded it—dancing to Etta James in the darkness of the living room, the parties, the gambling, the singing, the art, the Rat Pack, meeting folks from all walks of life, raising Frances and John, making a life and reaching heights she’d never expected when she left Wilmington, NC and braved her mother’s disapproval to live her dream in the city. Life with Byron was never boring and even when they had reached respectability and the world had changed enough so that she had her own mansion, the fun had never gone away. A light had gone out of the world when he had passed, a cloud over the sun that had only slowly come back.

“That one there reminds me a bit of him. He’s got the same life, the same curiosity about the world, and sense of fun and art. And he needs a place to settle for awhile. He’s a good man deep down; he just needs to stop running and figure a few things out before he gets too clever for his own good. And I’m tired of rattling around this place by myself.” They both looked at Neal, still sunning himself and uncharacteristically still.

“Well Gram, if you’re having fun, that’s the important thing. I trust you know what you’re doing.” That was one of the reasons why Cindy was her favorite grandchild. She reminded June of herself and Byron in her love of art and life on her own terms.

June shook off her brief melancholy and poked Cindy playfully in the side. “Nothing you wouldn’t do, young lady. Now tell your mother I’m not going to cut you all out and will him my fortune or let him murder me in my sleep and steal the Matisse or act the fool in front of everybody, and you’ll have done your duty. Let’s collect Neal and go to the Whitney.”

Cindy laughed and took June’s hand. “Alright, Gram! Let’s go paint the town red.”


End file.
